


Take A Seat

by glockmonkey



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Also no sex, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Swearing, f/f tag is for vaguely mentioned nastya/aurora, otherwise no romance, they're all friends and it matters to me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29955384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glockmonkey/pseuds/glockmonkey
Summary: Drumbot Brian gives counsel to his friends.
Relationships: The Aurora/Nastya Rasputina
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	1. Prologue/Right Back Nastya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nastya pays a visit to the cockpit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I probably shouldn't start another big project, but this one is WAY more plotted (encouraging, I know) than my earlier ones. Hopefully.
> 
> The Mechanisms have got Stuff Going On and I have emotions regarding the Drumbot so enjoy?
> 
> CWs for:  
> -Vague references to drugs  
> -Angst  
> -Small amounts of fire
> 
> (wow! that's a surprisingly low amount!)
> 
> I'll probably have this updated around Friday (March 12th) but that is subject to change.
> 
> Enjoy!!
> 
> Edit: This makes more sense if you've read the fiction.

During the night hours, the Aurora was stunningly quiet. 

The crew of the starship had long since put down their assorted weapons and set off for bed, whether they were to be found sleeping or not. The bright lighting of the ship had dulled, leaving only the dim glow of the light strips on the floor, guiding passage through her endless halls. A certain chill was in the air, but it went mostly unnoticed, as everyone who would mind was either asleep or too tired to care. The ship was empty, almost lonely, without the chaos and livelihood of its waking hours. 

All was still. Save for, of course, the occasional whirring and banging, coming from the cockpit.

Having no real need for sleep, the Drumbot could often be found awake in his chambers, during the early hours. Meddling with some knick-knack or other, turning his thoughts into paper and muttering to himself. 

Incidentally, this was also where many of the Mechanisms found themselves, should they be awake. Brian was used to this, by now. He liked being able to help people, even if his part revolved largely around being a listening ear to whoever needed one most. 

\---

Nastya didn’t come often. Usually, if she was awake during the late hours, she would go to the engine room. When that wasn’t possible, she would be found with Ashes, or nowhere at all. 

Sometimes, though, Nastya would decide on the cockpit. Brian was often glad of this. The ship at night could be a very lonely place to be, but Nastya made good company.

She slipped into his other desk chair one night, twisting a strand of half-dyed hair between her fingers. Nastya stared, forlorn, at the digital readouts on the wall;  _ Aurora, _ it was titled, and then, beneath,  _ Home to The Mechanisms.  _ The subtitle had used to be more creative, reading things like  _ Die, Laugh, Love? _ and  _ Home Is Where The… What Do We Have In Common, Again?.  _

Over the years, the Aurora’s sense of humour had grown more obsolete, until, they assumed, it had vanished completely. They still heard Nastya laugh, sometimes, but Brian supposed the laugh was more bittersweet than anything else. 

Nastya’s eyes darted to the bottom left corner, where the readings turned from legible to LED crumbs. “I should fix that,” she muttered, and then proceeded to lean further into her chair. 

“You should,” said Brian, because it was true. There was a lot that needed fixing, on the Aurora.

“I won’t, though,” said Nastya. “I don’t know if I’ll be able.”

Brian handed her a loose screwdriver, in a way that he really did mean to be helpful.

Nastya pocketed it and looked at him suspiciously. “You’re not on EJM, are you?”

“No,” Brian lied.

“Good,” said Nastya. “I don’t need you talking me into things. Or out of them.”

“What would you need talking out of?”

“Nothing,” said Nastya. “That’s what I said.” She crossed her arms over herself, clearly evading the topic. 

It took Brian all of 30 seconds to say, “Alright. Out with it.”

“No,” said Nastya.

“What else is there to do?” said the Drumbot.

Nastya sighed. She pondered for a moment, before pulling a slip of paper out of her pocket. She unfolded it, methodically, and pulled at the edges so it was almost seamless where she held it.  _ Air ducts in the brig,  _ it read, in Nastya’s messy handwriting.  _ Air purifier #3a. Starboard blasters 8 & 9\.  _ A to-do list.

“I’m an engineer,” said Nastya. “I fix things.”

Brian stopped himself from saying,  _ yes, we’ve clarified,  _ because that was rude and immature and frankly, not going to achieve anything at all. So he held his tongue.

“This is a ‘thing’ _ , _ right? Objectively?” she held up her list, which stretched far longer than Brian would have thought. She said it in the same way a teacher in the City would have said  _ this is your brain on lotus _ while holding up a shattered old-earth comm.

Brian nodded. It was certainly a thing.

“It’s wrinkled, at the moment. No big deal. I can iron it out, under some clothes. But now–” Nastya took a corner in each hand and ripped the list apart. “Not so much.”

“Tape,” Brian suggested.

Nastya ripped the paper a few more times. “Now?”

“Lots of tape.”

Nastya glanced around the room, and then stretched back in her seat. She touched the desolate paper to the broken edge of the Aurora’s readout screen. Almost immediately, it caught fire in her hand.

She dropped the ashes in the bin, shaking her hand out to avoid being burnt by the flames. “How about now?”

“That’s a hazard,” muttered Brian. “Also, now the list’s gone.”

“Yup.”

“What’s the metaphor?”

Nastya sighed, sinking back into her chair. Her face grew solemn, and she swallowed thickly. “Some things,” she said, “Are beyond repair.”

“You’re the engineer, though,” said Brian. “Most things aren’t.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” she muttered. 

“I would,” said Brian. “You should work on the things you can fix.” Brian had been talking about the readouts, but Nastya seemed to take it differently. 

“I’m trying,” said Nastya. “I’m trying.”

\---

The next morning, Nastya was nowhere to be seen. This wasn’t unusual, for any of the Mechanisms, except for the fact that she hadn’t left a note. 

When Brian questioned her whereabouts, no one seemed to know anything; except for Jonny, who muttered something about conservation efforts and promptly excused himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> psst. the screwdriver brian practically threw at nastya was how she got aurora's nameplate loose.
> 
> special thanks to my friend emma for helping me out with descriptions!!! language hard.


	2. Speak of the d’Ville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonny stops by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoo!! almost forgot to post this, whoops! hopefully ch. 3 will be up next friday, and i’ll have a total chapter count! 🙃
> 
> this chapter was also the first one I wrote, fun fact!
> 
> CWs are:  
> -Guilt (lots)  
> -Angst  
> -Swearing  
> -Anxiety attacks/mental illness  
> -Morality discussion
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!! :)

More often than one would think, Jonny would stop by.

Rarely saying anything, he’d creep into the pilot’s quarters in such a way that Brian sometimes failed to notice. Jonny, being a force of chaos, was generally hard to miss, making this a cause for concern.

On these occasions, Brian continued with his work, pausing once or twice to make certain Jonny didn’t need anything other than his company. 

Most times, Jonny would stay at his spot next to the wall, knees to chest and head to knees. Calming down from whatever nightmare or horrid thoughts he’d been prey to. Deep in his thoughts, yet close enough to another person to keep himself from slipping too far into a panic.

Jonny was silent, mostly, on nights like this. Mostly.

Some nights, when whatever event first caused these visits had sunk its teeth too far into him, Jonny would talk. 

“Sometimes I think I don’t feel,” he muttered one night, eyes fixed on the Drumbot’s blinking data screens.

“Hmm?” Brian hummed, half lost in his task.

“I mean,” Jonny continued, “I think I can. At least I could, at one point. Before.”

Realizing the significance of the conversation, the Drumbot dropped his pen and turned towards his forlorn friend. And-

He looked so  _ small _ , curled up by the wall, in the cheesy pyjamas Ashes had forced upon him some time ago. The Drumbot had never seen him so… desolate.

Wordlessly, Brian slipped out of his seat to take up his place at the wall next to Jonny.

“I think it’s my fault,” Jonny resumed, after a moment. “I fucked up my heart, I think. Other than the obvious issues. I just don’t… care, anymore.”

“I think you’re caring now,” said Brian quietly.

If Jonny had heard, he didn’t show it. “Easier to be angry than guilty, I guess. Of the… fuck, we’ve done so many horrible things, haven’t we?” Jonny shoved his face further into his own crossed arms. “ _ I’ve _ done so much. Fuck.”

Brian, reached out, tentatively, and put an arm around his friend’s shoulders. Almost immediately, he leaned into his brass shoulder, and Brian tried to recall the last time Jonny had let himself be touched like that.

“You’re a lucky bastard, you know that?” said Jonny abruptly. 

“How do you mean?”

“You have a heart,” said Jonny. “A real one. The only thing I don’t.”

Were Brian a more callous man, at the time, he would have argued with him.

“The only thing I do,” he said instead. 

“Yeah,” said Jonny, and was silent. 

“I don’t think you need a heart for emotion,” said the Drumbot, after a moment. “Most of it is in the brain.”

“You and your practicality,” Jonny groaned. “How do  _ you _ feel emotion, then, wiseass?”

Brian didn’t have an answer to that, so he didn’t respond. 

“Probably something about souls, or whatever,” said Jonny. “I caught Ivy crying over the octokittens yesterday, so it’s not physical, at least.”

“Good to know,” said Brian.

“I mean, it’d make sense– wait, fuck.”

Brian looked at Jonny pointedly.

“I’m philosophizing, aren’t I?”

“Maybe a little bit,” said Brian.

“Don’t you fucking  _ dare _ breathe a word of this to Marius. He’ll have my head, with all that psychology bullshit of his.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Brian honestly.

Jonny looked like he was going to make another death threat before a yawn caught him off-guard. “Wait, what time is it? And don’t you dare tell me that time doesn’t matter in space.”

“Around 3, probably.”

Jonny groaned.

“Also, I  _ wasn’t _ going to say that,” Brian lied.

“Fuck off,” said Jonny, grinning, and left for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very excited about the title for this one!! I am emotional about the bastard man. also, disclaimer, I know mr d’ville is a terrible, horrible person and feeling bad about lots of murder doesn’t change that. 
> 
> thanks for reading, stay hydrated!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!!!
> 
> My Tumblr is @ glockmonkey ! Come yell at me about the fic, if you want!


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